


Wait a While Longer, Beloved

by Nuinzilien



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mixing Movie and Book, because that's how i roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuinzilien/pseuds/Nuinzilien
Summary: Our brave Fellowship takes rest in Caras Galadhon and get to know each other.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89
Collections: Lord of the Rings Secret Santa 2019





	Wait a While Longer, Beloved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/gifts).



> For Melime - bless you for this most adorable prompt! I love blending traditions (and if it means blending Legolas and Gimli, even better!)
> 
> Note on the flowers mentioned:
> 
> Myrtle - Love, emblem for marriage  
> Violets - Faithfulness (blue), Let's Take a Chance on Happiness (white)  
> Primrose - I can't live without you  
> Tulips - There's Sunshine in Your Smile (yellow)

When mortals brushed against death, it was Legolas’ opinion that they tended to have one of two reactions. He glanced over at their dwarf companion, who feigned sleep, his snores almost comically loud to discourage others from approaching. Some, like Gimli, withdrew into themselves and preferred solitude.

Giggles pulled his attention to the group of hobbits. And then others chose to turn outward, chasing away the spectre of death with laughter. Such fascinating creatures, hobbits…

“Oh come off it, Frodo!” Pippin flopped down on the soft grasses of Caras Galadhon and took a sip from his canteen. “It doesn’t matter how many orcs and cave trolls he slays, Rosie Cotton will be well on her way to birthing her seventh faunt before Sam gets the stones to present her with a myrtle crown.”

The man from Gondor paused mid-stroke, his flint hovering over the blade of his sword. “A myrtle crown?”

Sam threw a pebble at Pippin. “She would not! And it wouldn’t be just myrtle. There would be violets in there. And primrose.” His smile turned soft. “And yellow tulips, bright as her smile.”

Legolas saw Aragorn lean toward his countryman to explain the hobbit language of flowers. 

“Besides,” Sam added. “At least I have someone to give the myrtle crown to. You, on the other hand, are indecisive as a tween!”

“Actually, I prefer to think of myself as a bee, going from flower to flower.” Pippin flopped back, wearing a smug smile.

“To flower, to flower, to flower, to flower, to flower,” Merry continued, snickering.

“Oi, shut it!” Pippin squawked. “Can I help it that there are so many to choose from?”

“You’re hopeless,” Sam muttered, shaking his head.

“So this flower crown is how you hobbits state your intentions toward a bride?” Boromir asked.

“Or a bridegroom.” Frodo leaned back against a tree. “It was the talk of the Shire when Otho Bracegirdle presented one to Mister Dodd’s eldest son.”

“Mostly how it was about time. They’d been making a spectacle of themselves for ages.” Sam poked at their small fire. “You know, It seems strange that we’re on this dangerous journey together and we know next to nothing about each other. What about you, Mister Boromir? Surely bein’ the next Steward of Gondor means you’ve got someone waiting at home?”

“I have a daughter at home, Master Hobbit.” Boromir’s sigh was heavy. “This will be her fourth winter.”

//Ah,// thought Legolas. //That explains why he was so eager to bring the ring to Gondor. He has a family to protect.// “What is she like, your daughter?”

Boromir smiled. “That depends on who you ask. According to my brother, she is a Vala incarnate, and daisies bloom wherever she walks. But if you ask her nanny, she is willful, bossy, and there is no doubting she is mine.”

“Then we shan’t dawdle in our task, good Boromir, so you will not miss her fifth.” Aragon placed his hand on Boromir’s arm for a moment, then puffed his pipe. “I look forward to meeting her.”

The group lapsed into a thoughtful silence for a moment, each likely thinking on the dangers ahead. Finally, Frodo hummed. “Prince Legolas?”

The elf in question blinked in surprise. He’d thought they were well past such formalities by now. “Yes, Frodo Baggins.”

Frodo flushed a bit. “Sorry, I suppose that did sound ridiculous, all things considered. But while we are on the subject of weddings and the like, I am a bit puzzled about something, and I wondered if you wouldn’t mind enlightening me.”

“I will If I can.”

“I have looked through Uncle Bilbo’s writings and through the libraries in Rivendell, and I could find very little about the actual marriage ceremonies of Elves, other than those cases in which they chose to be ‘married in the ways of Men’. But there was never a mention of any actual elven rituals. I found it quite curious. And there was absolutely nothing on dwarven ceremonies.”

Aragorn seemed to inhale his pipe a little too sharply and spluttered, waving away Boromir’s attempts to pound on his back.

Legolas inspected the fletching of his arrows, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He could feel the tension radiating from the ‘sleeping’ dwarf nearby. “I cannot speak on the ways of Dwarves, for though the mightiest of their kingdoms lay on our borders, they hold their ways close. But for elves… we are not all of a piece. Some do adopt the ways of Men, trading vows and tokens of fidelity. Among my people, marriage may be celebrated with feasts and the like, particularly if one or both are of high birth. But truthfully, marriage unions among elves require only the most ancient of rituals.”

It took but a moment for comprehension to dawn in Frodo’s eyes. “Yes, I suppose that would explain the lack of detail.”

Pippin frowned. “How? What does he mean by the most ancient ritual? What rit - OW!” He turned to glare at the one who had pinched his ear. “Merry!”

The young Brandybuck leaned in and whispered in his cousin’s ear. ‘He means, Mister Busy Bee, that according to elves, you’ve got about eight wives now. That you’ve told me of, at least.”

Pippin blinked rapidly, his eyes widening. “So…”

“Indeed, Master Hobbit.” Aragorn smiled around his pipe. “And it is even said that one can tell an elf’s marital status by his eyes."

Legolas gave him a sour look that promised vengeance some cold morning. The hobbits had perked at that, discretely (and some not so discretely) trying to take a closer look at his eyes. “Before you ask, friends, no, I am not wed. Not yet.” He brushed his fingers against something that hung just inside his tunic, satisfied to see his Dunedain friend’s startled look.

“Not yet?” Sam stopped poking at the fire and leaned closer. “You’re promised to each other, then?”

“Essentially. We are both of age, so we do not necessarily need approval from our houses, but I am not quite willing to test the extent of my father’s good will by marrying without him at least meeting my intended.”

“The burdens of station.” Boromir commiserated. “You are a grown man, able to command armies, but still unable to command your own love life.”

Legolas chuckled. “Something like that. I am fortunate that my intended is patient. And that his family and mine are not unknown to each other.”

“Is that how you met, then? He’s a family friend?” Sam asked.

“I would not go that far. The first time I saw him, I called him a goblin mutant.”

That brought a squawk of laughter from Pippin.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Allow this goblin mutant to attend you, my love?”

Legolas smiled and sank deeper into bathing pool as deft, dwarven fingers worked themselves through his hair. “You know I have long since seen the error of my words.”

Gimli chuckled softly. “Ai, I know. Though to be fair, I always hated that image. I did indeed look like a goblin.”

“You were young. I have it on good authority that when I was that age, I looked rather like a stork. We have both grown out of those phases.”

“And thank the Valar for that.” The hairs of Gimli’s beard tickled his ear as his intended leaned close. “And thank you for keeping what you know of us to yourself.”

Legolas reached back to squeeze his wrist, then twisted for a soft kiss. “You have been patient with me and respected my ways, though I know we both have wanted more. The least I can do is honor your ways with my silence.”

“Silly elf prince. I have told you before, if it need be this way between us for now, then so be it. Your lover is steadfast and true.”

“I know, my Gimli. Just a bit longer.” He moved deeper into the water, leaving Gimli slightly off balance and toppling him into the water with an indignant squawk.

Bright, elven laughter filled the deep quiet of the Golden Wood. There were worse fates than waiting for patient’s reward.

~~


End file.
